The natural honey roasted peanut butter is soft because I leave it out on the counter. When I peel back the plastic lid, I stir the puddle of peanut oil back into the thick nut butter beneath it. I tiptoe across the creaking floor, afraid to bother the old woman who lives downstairs.
I sit on the couch watching a French film and eating three apples with peanut butter because no one is home to tell me that it is strange to do so.
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That's not strange, it's awesome!
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